Stay Too Long
by jubliblob
Summary: Clexa AU: Clarke annoyingly finds herself in a Russian holding cell on her six month trip around the world. What's even more annoying is the asshole sent to rescue her, who she might sorta be falling in love with.
1. Chapter 1

_I haven't written fanfic in like two years but I just completely fell in love the 100 so hopefully you like it x _

* * *

The shouting is incessant. One loud unrelenting strain of crass Russian swear words, each one accented with thinly translated verses of 'stupid' 'blonde' and 'girl'. Which she found quite endearing and sweet, the woman being so considerate as to ensure she perfectly understood that she was a useless piece of shit. Something that she has come to learn quite quickly, sat amongst what appears to be the backwash of hells waiting room, staring an overweight old woman in the face. Simply trying to fathom any understanding of how she ended up in a Russian holding cell, with nothing to her name but a creased piece of paper with her mothers phone number and an address for the best weed in all of Romania.

Right about now she's really regretting accidently poking this woman in the eye when they shoved her in here, struggling against their disinterested arms as the women around her laughed at her defiance. This was two fucking days ago. In any other situation she'd have to admire the woman's breath control but she is unable to since this woman _really_ won't shut the fuck up.

She's told her to multiple times, with firm hand gestures and a stern look, but apparently the line of communication doesn't go as far as it would seem, each word she uttered being met with a firm moment of silence followed by a continuation of her never ending monologue. It had gotten to the point where at 3am on her first night in dusty assfuck hell she'd stared hungrily at a rusty nail protruding ever so invitingly out of the wall, knowing that a small snag unnoticed and untreated would cause septicaemia. Then the bitch would shut up.

She stares at it now, mouth watering, eyes dilated-

"Griffin"

The accent throws her off; moments' passing by in delirium while a police officer shouts her name. She eventually looks up, the now serene silence of the cell ringing in her ears. A man stands, young and bored, the clean blue of his uniform clashing with the worn grey walls of the cells. A woman stands beside him; almost a head taller in her heals, clicking away at her phone as he opens the cell.

The woman finally manages to prise her eyes from the phone, gaze landing on Clarke, an amused smirk spreading across her face. She stares back, face grim with two days of no sleep- caught between falling to her knees in gratitude and crying in anguish.

"Out of all the people she could of sent" Unable to contain herself she stands, cursing her mother's name "Why you?" she spits.

"I'm really glad to see you too Clarke" Lexa grins predatorily, thrilled at the reception "Is this where you live now? I love what you've done with the place." She says, words tinged with satisfaction as Clarke walks on unsteady feet towards her "Very you" she polishes off with an emphatic nod.

Clarke grimaces, staring at the woman she's loathed and abhorred since she was six years old, a distant cousins best friends sister that she's been blessed with the company of for the majority of her life, through endless family dinners, box socials and the ever prosperous annual hay hoe-down. After countless dead end conversations and forced interaction Clarke had quickly come to the conclusion that Lexa was the most boring person in the world, and being the open and free spirit she is, she had no qualms against showing it. The last years of their constant coupling were spent with purposeful missteps landing on toes, snide remarks made within earshot and the occasional drink accidentally poured into each other's bag.

On the phone later Clarke will berate her mother about this, once again met by an extended rant about how stupid she was for getting herself into this mess in the first place. She'd agree if she could actually _remember_ what got her into this mess in the first place.

"I don't generally speak Russian" Lexa throws over her shoulder, not looking back at the hobbling mess trying to keep up with her far too cheerful footsteps "But I'm pretty sure I heard the words 'drugs' and 'passport'" she stops in her tracks, business suit crisp and harsh against the soft grey of police station hallway "So would you like to tell me why you were trafficking drugs into Moscow?" she quips, eyes alight with amusement and superiority, watching Clarke sputter in shock "And yes you do smell as bad as you think"

Her three day grimace melts into one of confusion, mouth opening on its own accord "Drug trafficking?"

Lexa sighs, impatiently beginning to walk again "Yes Clarke"

She's constantly three days ahead of her, head clear and body clean to the world around her, no bags under her eyes or dirt in her hair, no dust lining her lungs and certainly no conscious thought of empathy towards someone who's literally been to hell and back. If it weren't for the fact the woman was her saviour she'd tackle her to the ground, wipe the shit-eating grin off her face.

"Reminiscing?"

Clarke grits her teeth, fast walks down the entryway steps with all her strength "Where are we going?" she hurls, cutting off the low laugh aimed at her.

"Here" Lexa stops, opening the door to a jet black car, the stoic and bored expression Clarke knows from her childhood returned to her face "Get in"

* * *

As much as she hates it with everything within her, Clarke does as she's told, following Lexa's orders at every interval (silently thankful to not be making decisions anymore), until she's sat still grimy and gross in an airport waiting room, the coffee in her hands slowly building her sanity enough to process conscious thought.

Her first thought however is that Lexa is talking, has been talking for a while, the only thing breaking her fog being a pack of wet wipes thrown at her, a quick "Try your best" accenting the dull thud of the packet against her head.

She glares back, placing the coffee down to open the packet, not once removing her glare from the side of Lexa's uncaring head.

She slowly and easily begins to wipe away the grease and dirt caked upon her skin, each wipe heaven sent as she openly moans into the waiting room, Lexa's look of distaste not bothering the seasoned traveller, eyes rolling back into her head as she feels the cool moist rag swipe across her forehead.

"Please stop it" Lexa almost whines, eyes searching the confused faces of the other occupants of the room. This then causes Clarke's moans to become louder, hands aggressively swiping at her armpits.

"Tell me again why you of all people came to get me" she starts, cocky with her new found cleanliness "Another one of your missions for profound superiority?"

Lexa laughs, low, sarcastic and refusing to answer. In response Clarke moans even louder, causing the majority of the room to get up and leave. Lexa's frustration is marked with a muffled curse word "I was in St. Petersburg on business" she says, voice monotone as always "And I just couldn't wait to talk about the good old days" she grins sarcastically "I believe the last time we saw each other was at senior prom and you remarked on how it must be hard for me to dance with a stick up my ass"

"Oh I remember" Clarke laughs "I was very concerned about your condition" she throws the wipes to the chair next to her, leaning forward "Did you ever manage to get it removed?"

There's a pause, a moment of almost consideration "Yes I did actually" Lexa says, unmoving "Round about the time you dropped out of med school and ruined your life"

They sit in silence for the rest of the evening, the journey to the plain a drunken haze of fatigue.

As soon as she sits down on the plain she falls asleep, mouth gaping as she reclines in the seat, Lexa's stiff body sat in silence a seat next to hers.

* * *

Clarke wakes up what feels like ten minutes later, hair plastered to the side of her head and mouth tainted with the remnants of three day old borscht. She looks over at the woman throwing pieces of bread at her head, one simultaneously flying off her forehead, and nearly bursts into tears "Why?" falls petulantly from her lips, weak in the face of the war cry she'd rather utter.

Lexa's seems to hold back a smile, a funny look in her eyes that Clarke has the unbearable urge to smack away "We've landed"

"Landed?" she blurts, body smacking against the seat in front, causing an elderly couple to gasp in horror "How long was I asleep?"

"Two hours" she sighs, undoing her seatbelt.

"What?" she gasps, scandalised by the plane's uncaring for her sudden lack of understanding "Where are we?"

"Berlin"

"Berlin?!"

Due to Clarke's inept inability to use an inside voice, Lexa began to explain with varied contempt that yes they were in Berlin, and no this wasn't a flight back to America, and they wouldn't be on a flight to America until Thursday because despite what Clarke may believe, the world did not revolve around her. Which turned into a ten minute argument in passport control because Lexa knew nothing about her and how dare she insinuate that she wasn't self aware, which was replied with of course Clarke was always _self-aware, _said in such a way as to insinuate that Clarke had a lot of sexual partners. Never one to shy away from a declaration of prowess Clarke had then shouted "You bet your fucking ass I am" in the middle of baggage claim, causing Lexa to ignore her for the remainder of the evening.

An evening which included an awkwardly silent dinner, a half an hour car ride and the checking into and walk up to their shared hotel room. It wasn't until Clarke was faced with the numerous shopping bags that littered the hallway of the room that she turned to Lexa and said with an air of contempt "What the fuck?"

"I had them delivered" she says simply, passing Clarke's frozen body to place her bag down "I told them to google gross backpacker clothes so they should be to your liking" she says, back turned to Clarke as she began to punch numbers into the room's phone.

Clarke just stares, caught between wanting to thank her and tell her to fuck off. She settles for hoarding herself in the bathroom until she can emerge with some resemblance of the human being she once was.

* * *

She sleeps for thirteen hours, emerging from her coma at one in the afternoon to a streak of sunlight aimed straight at her right eye, which she quickly rivals with an even better aimed middle finger.

The bed next to her lies empty, sheets folded with almost military style precision, causing Clarke to roll her eyes as she vaguely remembers the mention of a big important meeting thrown into their argument the day prior.

She makes coffee and leaves it on the coffee table as she opens the curtains. When she looks back down at the cup, now in the light of day, her eyes flicker to the book placed adjacent to it. Her hand bumps the edge of the cup as her arm darts out to the warn edges of the book, its hot liquid spilling over the sides as it regains purchase on the glass surface.

The book, or the beaten, broken and stained version of a book, houses each drawing, sketch and moment from Clarke's six month trip around the world. A book she had practically treasured with her life, and in turn mourned for in the sweltering Russian cell she thought to be her last adventure in life. Hours spent trying to re-piece together each page of her life as she stared at the ceiling, fighting back tears as she imagined the grubby, uncaring hands that touched its cover, rifled through the pages like it was some eighties romance novel strewn on the shelves of a chain book store.

She stands for a long moment; opening and closing the book, moving her fingers along the paint stained cover, body relaxed and at ease for the first time in days.

It isn't until she looks up, eyes briefly focusing on the made bed next to her screwed up sheets, that her mind switches thought to the woman who had slept in that bed. The woman who had silently left her to sleep in the morning, left her to find the notebook she'd rescued for her, left her alone to reclaim the independence she'd lost over the last few days.

At this vague and very brief positive thought of Lexa, Clarke has to stop, hand to her chest in realisation and think: gross.

* * *

Later that night, Clarke finds that completely against her will, the few words she shares with Lexa over dinner are decidedly less biting. The book is not mentioned, however when a glimpse of the cover is viewed from its place in Clarke's jacket, she catches a nod of approval aimed at the table.

After her mother once again screams at her for being so irresponsible over the phone that night while Lexa is in the shower, she moves on to berate her about saying thank you. Although she refuses, she makes a mental note to pat her on the back or something.

* * *

The next day, when she is once again left alone in the hotel room, she decides, it being all of a month since she was last in Berlin, to call her friend Bellamy. The drug dealer/English teacher/one time sexual encounter she'd spent two weeks sleeping on the couch of.

They meet up in a small café near the hotel, after she tells the concierge where she's going and nearly falls down the steps due to the contents of an orange splayed on the pavement on the way.

"Back so soon" he greets her, standing from his seat to pull her into a hug "You just couldn't get enough"

She laughs though it isn't particularly funny, happy and relieved to be with someone familiar "Bellamigo" she grins, hugging him tighter.

"We're not in Spain, Clarke" he says, pulling away to look at her.

"Yeah but Bellafreund doesn't sound as good"

He laughs, moving to sit back down "You Americans butcher the German language"

Clarke waits all of five minutes to re-hash the events of the week to him; sparing no detail as to the suffering she has endured, both at the hands of the Russian police force and the woman her mother sent to rescue her from it.

Bellamy is extremely understanding and sympathetic, recollecting his own night spent in a jail cell in France, explaining it to be a right of passage in Europe, a comment which she rolls her eyes at.

"So what happens now?" He asks through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Back home I guess" she sighs, picking at the label of her beer "My mother's got me chaperoned all the way back to Ohio. It had to end somewhere I guess"

Bellamy smiles sympathetically, mouth opening to say something but her attention is side tracked, eyes trained on the street outside, where a woman who looks an awful lot like Lexa stands. It's 'an awful lot' like her because the woman outside seems to parallel every idea of the woman Clarke holds. She stands on the sidewalk, looking down the street, blazer thrown over her shoulder, shirt un-tucked from her skirt, the usual high heels replaced by worn and tattered sneakers. A beer is held loosely in her hand and after she takes a sip, her eyes land on Clarke's through the window, the same hand coming up to give a sarcastic wave.

Clarke's eyes follow her in shock as she makes her way into the café, slow and a little drunk. Bellamy continues to talk, unknowing of Clarke's inner turmoil.

Lexa calls over for three more beers, the command like order accented with a kind please and thank you as she approaches the table.

Bellamy seems to become even happier at her arrival, smiling ear to ear at the side of Clarke's head. In her shock Clarke fails to introduce the two, choosing rather to stare at Lexa as if she were a stranger, causing Lexa to stand for a long moment before giving Clarke a poignant look and thrusting her hand forward "Lexa" she states, a slight slur to her words.

"Bellamy" he grins, shaking her hand "I'm Clarke's Berlin friend"

"Nice to meet you" she says, practically falling down in the seat next to Clarke "I'd say I'm Clarke's friend but she'd probably describe me as some asshole she grew up with"

They both laugh at this, and even though Clarke is still staring in confusion she knows she _hates_ it.

The waitress brings over the beer and Lexa takes a moment to smile politely before opening her bottle.

"Bellamy teaches English" Clarke blurts out, trying to fill the silence as she watches Lexa take a sip.

"Well _sometimes_ I teach English" he says with a laugh, beginning to open his own beer to try and catch up "It's not my primary source of income"

Lexa does that little nod of approval again, perfectly content as she starts to pick at the uneaten food on Clarke's plate "I dated a translator once" she says, before adding a small chuckle "Well I say dated…"

"So what do you do?" He asks, sharing an amused look with Clarke, who stares back blankly.

She smiles, seemingly amused "I consult large corporations on how to be more economically efficient"

It's at this reveal that Clarke realises that in all the time they had spent together she'd not once asked what Lexa does for a living, had never bothered to ask "For how long?"

"Three years" she shrugs "It's pretty sweet actually, I show up, do some numbers, have a meeting with some old white guy then get on another plane. Other than practically living in airports it's perfect"

Clarke looks down briefly at the hand picking at her food "So you travel a lot?"

"Duh" Lexa emits loudly, causing Clarke to move back in shock "This is my fifth time in Berlin this year"

"I thought you looked familiar!" Bellamy seems to bellow across the room "We've met before" he practically accuses, finger pointed "You were with Anya that night we went to see the Mountain Men! You slept on my floor!"

He's practically screaming as Clarke looks on in shock horror, Lexa having found resolution, mind blown.

Clarke's evening then becomes hours of listening to the two recollect memories of that night, which turn to memories of Anya and then finally, when Clarke (now extremely drunk) intercepts with her own story, how Bellamy and Clarke then met. The beer is replaced with one, and then two, bottles of wine, as Bellamy and Lexa laugh hysterically at Clarke's retelling of how on her first night in Berlin she had managed to have sex with Bellamy's best friend, fall over on the way out and crack her ass on the pavement, to then be hoisted up by a group of expats coming home from a party, one of which was Bellamy Blake.

In all the time Clarke had known Lexa she'd never been so at ease around the woman, despite the copious amount of alcohol streaming through her veins she's never been more clear minded about her, and the fact that she may now, in some really weird, distorted and disgusting way, she'd call her a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

However, in the morning this new found lease of friendship is little to commiserate the mass ache that lies within the small confines of her brain, teamed with an hour of painful vomiting that leaves her pale, bleary eyed and cut throat aggressive for any semblance of food.

She finds herself extremely cold and desperate in the same seat she occupied the day before, this time with an even bigger plate of food and a pale, queasy looking Lexa sat opposite her. Someone she doesn't even spare a glance at until she'd finished at least half of her own plate, looking up to find her staring into space, ketchup crusted to the sides of her mouth and hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

"It's so weird seeing you like this" Clarke murmurs through a mouthful of bread.

Lexa's eyes snap to her, holding in a burp "Like what?"

"Like…" Clarke stops, focussing on the ketchup on Lexa's chin "Human" Lexa laughs, which may have been a moment of satisfaction for Clarke if the loud noise didn't practically slap her in the face. She chooses to simply smile back "You've got shit on your chin"

Lexa's hand goes straight to her chin, before stopping short a centimetre away "What like _actual _shit?"

"Yes you have pooh all around your mouth, I just forgot to mention it"

"You never know," she says, grinning, "It was a big night"

Clarke then watches her try and fail at wiping away the offending condiment, holding back a smile "Here" she sighs, feigning impatience as she snatches the napkin from Lexa's hand and begins wiping it herself "You're a child" she comments to the disgruntled look on Lexa's face.

For a moment the ache in her head is forgotten, allowing herself to smile easily at the woman in front of her, gaze shifting slightly to look in her eyes, noticing the green mixed with the blue, the dark smudges of unwashed eyeliner, and then at her lips, covered slightly by tissue, quirked to one side as she smiled leisurely, almost seductively back at her and-

Oh.

Oh shit.

Her hand drops, realisation creeps in and she's left sat like a deer in headlights "I need to take a giant piss" she blurts, chair shrieking against the floor as fast walks to the back of the restaurant, napkin still death gripped in her hand.

It was all wrong, every last minute, every last singular second that transcribed to do this to her, to allow her to think anything other than hatred. Anything other than pure, hell bent, red-hot searing hatred for Lexa.

But the damage had been done, for the first time in her life she felt something other than indifference for the woman, something much more than indifference, and it was just really _weird_. So weird that she forgets to pee, or do anything that may imitate the actions of a sane human being, she just stands in the cramped bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror with an expression that read nothing but "oh shit"

When she finally emerges from the bathroom Lexa has the audacity to stand there on the street, waiting for her with two ice creams like some sick twisted display of affection "I thought we were supposed to hate each other" she utters, busying herself with her coat to hide the shake in her voice.

"You came out before I could sprinkle the arsenic on yours" Lexa shrugs, handing it over.

Utterly deplorable, Clarke bitterly holds back any form of smile, ending up with a heavy grimace as she takes the ice cream "Thank you" she gruffs out.

Lexa's eyebrows lift in recognition, taking a long lick of the dessert that Clarke might of found herself staring at.

* * *

Bellamy calls the hotel room that night, when Clarke is still groggy from a impromptu four hour nap and Lexa is sat alone and broody on the balcony, talking of a party at his apartment that they had to go to, mainly because it would just be rude not to.

Clarke manages to coax Lexa from outside with a promise of waffles that she is now one hundred per cent sure Lexa is in love with. Another extremely human fact Clarke knows about Lexa, and is in turn scared shitless because of.

They take the U-Bahn, and Clarke ends up pressed against Lexa for ten minutes, who's wearing a white t-shirt with thin black horizontal stripes that Clarke wants to trace with her fingers, as they stare at each other's shoulders to avoid eye contact. Clarke eventually manages to strike up conversation about the girl Anya she briefly remembers discussing the night before, which Lexa is more than happy to talk almost endlessly about, practically shouting over the noise of the train. It's quickly learnt that Anya was one of Lexa's closest friends, who she hadn't seen in months due to the woman's inability to stay in one place for more than two weeks, before adding with a note of sadness that from what she'd heard she was now in Dubai, living in a one bedroom apartment with three people she'd met in India. "Have you been?"

"To Dubai?" she asks, met with a nod as the train jostles them from side to side "No" she pauses "Not yet"

"I've been once or twice" she smiles "You should definitely go, it was fun"

When they reach the party; a man she recognises from a month before ambushes Clarke on the way in, the kind of man to perpetually wear a baseball hat indoors and never give up his mission to sleep with her. Lexa stands awkwardly for a moment, finding an excuse to walk away the first chance she could- that Clarke blames on a disinterest in the conversation rather than a small, sudden bought of jealousy.

She eventually manages to evade his boring, monotonic voice and practically sprints to the safety of the kitchen, finding Bellamy leant against the counter, already drunk as his arm hangs loosely around Lexa's shoulder. She shares a look with Clarke, one of amused embarrassment, as Bellamy staggers towards her with an offered drink and a slurred "Hair of the dog?"

They both end up practically carrying him to his room; Lexa flicking on the bedside lamp as he falls down onto the mattress, a crescendo of snores erupting from the second his head touches the pillow. For a moment they stand at either end of the bed in silence, until Lexa stops to give her an extremely serious look "So about those waffles"

A small kiosk ten minutes away from the party is the only place still open at eleven o'clock at night that's still willing to make waffles. Lexa is seemingly holding back tears when the warm plate is handed to her, and when Clarke is eating her own, sat on a swing in a deserted park, she can understand why.

"You wanna play twenty questions?" She finds herself saying through a mouthful, trying to fill the silence.

"Alright" Lexa practically hums, sat on top of the jungle gym opposite Clarke "Where did you get the scar on your hand?"

She's taken aback a little, eyes drifting to the barely noticeable scar cut an inch between her thumb and forefinger "I was chasing a mosquito around my room in France, accidently fell off the balcony and cut my hand on the way down" she smiles "Got the fucker the next day though"

She almost doesn't catch Lexa's laugh it's so quiet, but when she looks up at the other woman the first thing she notices is that same look from three days ago, this time without any effort to hide it.

She stops, realises now she has to concoct a reasonable question out of the hundreds racing through her mind, she's completely stumped "What did you major in?"

"Good question"

"Shut up"

Lexa throws her now empty plate to the side, letting out a breath "Economics" she says, picking at the worn paint of the jungle gym "What are you going to do when we get back?"

She thinks about the fate of her existence in a days time, the furthest she's thought ahead in a very long time "I have no idea" she laughs, quickly adding "How did you get me out of prison?"

"It was hardly prison, Clarke" she clarifies and Clarke gasps in outrage, a wail of 'close enough' cutting through the night "They just wanted money. The whole thing is a scam to get money out of tourists"

"How much?"

"It's not your question" she scolds and Clarke huffs "How old were you when you first had sex?"

"Are you serious? That was like zero to a hundred in two seconds" she sputters out, Lexa simply nods, undeterred "Seventeen" she huffs, crossing her arms.

"Gross, I knew you then" Lexa chides in.

"You've known me since we were eight" she quips back, rolling her eyes at Lexa's 'still though' "How old were you?"

Lexa considers it for a moment, crossing her legs "Nineteen"

"Nerd" Clarke quips back not a second after, sweet revenge accented by Lexa's loud bark of laughter. "Who with?" she asks after a beat "That girl… Costia?" she says, a little unnerved at how quickly the name came to her.

Even in the darkness Clarke can see the tension run up Lexa's spine "Yeah" she says, barely audible.

"Are you still-"

"Costia died four years ago, Clarke"

Clarke once again finds herself thinking 'oh shit' "I'm sorry" she babbles "I didn't know"

"It's fine Clarke, it was a long time ago" a large gap of silence fills the space, noticed by both.

"Bet it still hurts though" Clarke finds herself saying, meeting Lexa's eyes in the dim light of the street, a silent understanding of their shared experience, shared grief. Another pause and Clarke can't seem to catch her breath.

"As long as we're getting personal" Lexa tries to joke, quietly breaking the tension with a feigned smile "Why did you drop out of med school?"

Clarke matches the smile, grateful for the second chance at conversation. Even though she'd rather be sat on her ass back in prison than answer the question. "It just wasn't who I wanted to be anymore. I was walking down the street one day and I caught my reflection in a store window and didn't recognise myself, and it dawned on me that I'd never made a single decision because it was what I wanted to do. So I cashed in the life insurance cheque my dad left and got on a plane, I haven't been back since"

"I bet that's what he would of wanted"

They stay out until one in the morning and on the way back Clarke nearly falls over a discarded beer bottle, Lexa holds her hand the rest of the way home because apparently "someone's forgot how to use their fucking legs". Though Clarke doesn't complain.

* * *

Despite the late night Lexa wakes at seven the next morning, quickly getting ready in the silence of the room, unbeknownst to the eyes trained upon her. Although she's barely awake and sparsely capable of thought, Clarke's finds herself watching Lexa, noticing small details like the way she looks herself in the mirror for a few short seconds and the way her hand brushes past Clarke's bare foot, as if purposefully seeking contact she didn't allow herself to have, details that will be forgotten in the morning, ruminations that will fall to the back of her mind as the strange thoughts of a tired mind.

She finds herself awake and alone a few hours later, sat up in bed as her mind rests on the thought of the one she's spent the last three days trying to hate. Thoughts that are very much like one's she's experienced before, for people she had ceaselessly fallen in and out of love with, people who were nothing like Lexa.

No one was like Lexa.

And she felt like throwing up.

* * *

The day swelters on. She drinks coffee, eats room service and draws for what feels like days. Until she leaves hours later, choosing to sit on the steps of the hotel and wait for the one her mind has been unable to stop annoyingly thinking about.

Which she decides to tell her when she's sees the woman walking up the street; a fitted jumper pulled over her normal shirt "You're very annoying"

"Yes" Lexa automatically agrees, brow knitting together a beat after "How so?"

Clarke stands from the step, closing her journal "You just are"

Lexa shrugs, stating, "It's our last night"

She sighs, refusing to think of life outside of today "What should we do?" she throws the question in the air, thoughts of extremely non-platonic activities they could be partaking in.

They end up in a dark bar a ten-minute walk from the hotel, making small talk to avoid discussion of lingering looks and the concept of saying goodbye.

However, three beers later Lexa seems to give up, hand purposely placed next to Clarke's on the bar, hesitant to touch "Listen Clarke" she begins, pinkie lifting to brush lightly against Clarke's "I made a comment a few days ago, about you ruining your life doing this and I want you to know that I didn't mean it, I was upset and I apologise for saying it. I don't think that, have _never_ thought that" she then breathes in deep, forcing a smile "There I said it" before turning away to face the bar and take another swig of beer.

"It's okay" Devoid of anything more eloquent to say, Clarke searches the occupants of the bar, as if words would magically appear in front of her.

"I actually knew you were out here for quite some time" Lexa laughs to herself "Your mother Facebook messages me"

"Oh my god" she groans "That's embarrassing"

"It's quite sweet actually, she asks me about all the places you've been, trying to make sure you're not walking into a death trap" she says, grinning at the deep blush on Clarke's face "Or you know, going to get arrested" Clarke groans again, swatting at Lexa's arm "It's actually how I knew about your book" she says, quieter this time "Figured it was important"

Her hand goes to touch the book in her jacket on reflex "Yeah, thank you"

The night ends uneventfully, and before long Clarke finds herself back on a plane, falling asleep trying to forget the small ache in her chest mixing with an insistant feeling of dread.

* * *

Her mother picks her up from the airport, smacking her on the head before wrapping her in a hug, it's the first time they've seen each other in months and even Clarke can't help the feeling of safety that follows the interaction- she'd been alone for a while.

Lexa leaves a moment later, giving her a hug that's too short and saying, quiet and insecure "I'm leaving tomorrow, so I'll see you around" nodding to Abby, who smiles bittersweet "It was very nice seeing you again"

The entire ride home Abby talks non-stop, sending her little sympathetic and knowing looks every time she catches her breath. Which really drive her crazy, because of course she'd be able to tell straight away.

She sits in her old room, on her old bed, then eats dinner in perpetual silence. Moments pass through her mind, memories of the childhood she thought she understood, of a girl she thought she hated, thought was boring. A girl who in the span of three days, had managed to alter Clarke's perception of her so drastically, that the very thoughts in her head felt heavy and bizarre in the very room she had built the life she thought she knew.

The rain outside constantly battered the window, a picture of her Dad sat on the sill, smiling and happy with his arm around her.

She knew what he'd do.

Abby doesn't bat an eye when Clarke runs out into the pouring rain, nor the fact that she's wearing basketball shorts and a 'I got boned at the natural history museum' t-shirt.

Even though she'd known where Lexa's house was for years she's never actually been anywhere past the porch step, causing her hands to shake as they knock on the door, clothes sticking to her body and hair drenched in water.

"Clarke" Lexa stands in the doorway, voice quiet but surprised over the thundering rain.

"I was wrong about you" she says simply, staring into Lexa's unreadable eyes "I was wrong and I was mean and rude to you for so long, and I'm sorry. I thought I knew who you were, but I had no idea. And now…" she swallows past the dryness of her throat "I can't stop thinking about you"

Lexa says nothing, mouth open slightly as her eyes flick between Clarke and the floor. After all of five seconds Clarke huffs, stubborn and petulant she turns on her heals and power walks back into the rain.

"Clarke wait"

"No shut up" she shouts out into the rain, refusing to turn around "Go away" but she stops, becomes suddenly enraged with the mixed signals, the inability to share emotion and the sheer humiliation of rejection "You know what-" she turns sharply, breath catching in her throat when Lexa is there, stood bare foot a fraction away from her.

"Did you think I was invited to those party's?"

Clarke head jerks back at the aggressive voice "What?"

"The box socials and the hoe downs and the mass fucking dinners" she says, loud and clear over the rain "Our family's aren't connected, our parents aren't friends and no one there other than you and your mother even knew who I was"

"I thought you were just someone's friend"

Lexa steps forward, closing the gap Clarke had made to stop her hands shaking "I was there because I loved you. I have always loved you. Since I was eight years old and I watched you pour paint on your shoes, slip on it and fall on your ass a second later. Even when you hated me it was still the best part of my day because you would talk to me, look at me, and I could imagine every glare was a smile, every fuck you was an I love you too-"

Clarke closes the final gap, hand on the back of Lexa's neck to pull her down into the kiss she'd spent days stopping herself thinking about, arms circling around her waist and holding her like she never wants to let go.

Kissing in the rain. She's disgusted with herself.

Sort of

* * *

The next night she's on a plane to Switzerland, once again fast asleep with her mouth open, the sounds of her snoring echoing through the cabin as Lexa sits happily with her headphones in to her left. They kiss again in the parking lot of the hotel, unromantic and happy, Lexa's hands in her pockets as she laughs about Clarke once again falling over trying to get out of the car.

She's really starting to think she has an inner ear problem or something.

They have sex for the first time three days later on a night train to Belgium, rolling off the bed every time the train shifted, laughing the next day at the bruises that filter down Lexa's entire left side.

Every now and then Lexa will smile or put her arm around her with a sigh, like she's the best thing that's ever happened to her, and it takes a moment for Clarke to catch her breath. Although she's already been to the places they visit, has walked the same steps alone, they feel completely new to her, because she hasn't seen Lexa step there, hasn't seen Lexa's reaction to a painting or a monument or just a fucking room service menu.

There first fight is over a woman flirting with Clarke in a café in Glasgow, a fight mainly consisting of Clarke telling her to calm the fuck down because she was pretty sure the woman just wanted to know if her muffin was good. Which Lexa clearly didn't agree with.

They run into one of Lexa's clients in a museum in Paris, and it's the first time Clarke notably witnesses her change from happy and in love to professional and in charge, causing them to 'de-flower' the first floor bathroom of said museum.

She finally meets Anya after they've been together four months, living in a hotel apartment in Portugal for the last two. The woman is tanned and attractive, and spends the majority of the night sizing Clarke up, before eventually handing her a glass of red wine and threatening her imminent death if she were to hurt Lexa in any way shape or form. Clarke just shrugs, slurs out "fair enough" and carries on drinking.

On the anniversary of Costia's death Lexa takes two weeks off work and they fly back to America. Clarke spends time with her mother- who plies her with food and tells her she always knew they'd get together- while Lexa orders copious amounts of flowers, has dinner with Costia's family and one night, after days of silence, cries into the crook of Clarke's neck in the middle of the night. She does the same for her when the anniversary of her father's death rolls around.

After almost a year they return to Berlin, and despite the avid calls and messages it suddenly hits Clarke just how much she missed Bellamy. His hair is shorter and though Clarke tries, she's unable to get him to shut up about his new job at a local high school. When she asks about a potential love interest in his life he blushes, simply telling her to shut the fuck up and eat her dinner. She laughs, full and happy.

A month down the line, news of Bellamy and baby is screamed ecstatically down the phone, Clarke only spends ten minutes berating him for not introducing her to his girlfriend.

After they've been together a year and a half Lexa meets a woman named Maya at a convention in London, who shakes her hand and inspires her to change the world. Later that night, when Lexa is kissing a path down Clarke's neck in the back of a crowded pub, she tells her about Maya and New York and the promise of what they could become. She thinks of the stacking portfolio of art she carries everywhere they go, fantasises about a canvas and a gallery and a chance to become brilliant, before she's nodding and wanting to scream 'hell fucking yeah'.

They rent a one bedroom apartment in a decent neighbourhood and Lexa takes the subway to the United Nations building every day. Clarke opens a small gallery near the apartment with the remainder of the life insurance cheque, and for a long time she is stressed and tired and sees no end to the work she has to put it. Eventually it subsides, and the fights that tried their relationship dissipate to youthful giggles and promises to be better, try harder.

Clarke becomes best friends with a mechanic/artist named Raven, who spends many nights passed out on their couch and who she appoints made of honour when Lexa proposes in a taxi on the way to an event at the gallery (throwing the ring box at her head after she says yes)

They move into a bigger apartment, with two bedrooms and a breakfast bar. Anya arrives a week before the wedding and has sex with Lexa's other work friend Gustus in their spare room. Lexa spends the morning throwing the oranges Clarke is trying to squeeze at them and swearing in every language she can scarcely remember, her future wife laughing hysterically as she does.

They marry on a Tuesday after being together for four years. Relatives Clarke can't remember tell her matter-of-factly that they always knew Lexa had a thing for her, she holds back the reply of 'no shit' and smiles like it's the first time she's ever heard it. Her mother sobs during the reception; drunk off three glasses of sherry and swearing to everything she knows that she was the sole reason they finally got together. Lexa agrees, thanks her and says she owes her one while Clarke watches with a mixture of embarrassment and pride.

Bellamy arrives with a toddler in toe, smiling ear to ear as the little girl tugs on Clarke's dress and rambles in both German and English. He simply shrugs when Clarke asks of her mother, watching Lexa dance emphatically with the little girl while Anya moonwalks at the side of them, "Didn't work out" and she understands, promises a place to stay if he ever needs a change, though she knows he never will.

Their wedding song is "Faithfully" by Journey because two years ago they had gotten drunk in a dive bar on Staten Island, howling the song at each other on a deserted dance floor at three in the morning. Which they mimic, though subdued due to the hundreds of relatives surrounding them, whisper screaming the lyrics into each others ears.

The next day they're back on a plane, Clarke fast asleep with her mouth open, Lexa ignoring the loud snores in the seat next to her.

* * *

_Got a bit carried away at the end there lol let me know what you think xx_


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